


Man Enough

by gliding_sugars



Series: Scavenged Love [1]
Category: Fallout (Video Games), Fallout 4
Genre: M/M, Short & Sweet, Short One Shot, Soft Boys, mac is my fav ok-
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-23
Updated: 2019-01-23
Packaged: 2019-10-14 19:56:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,281
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17515004
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gliding_sugars/pseuds/gliding_sugars
Summary: just a couple of dudes being soft in an abandoned house in the middle of Boston





	Man Enough

_“...walking out the door in the morning light…”_

The song danced in the air, carried by the breeze, light and soft like the moonlight shining down on the ruins of Boston. Shadows lurked and crept along the alleyways, menacing and secretive. The only sounds filling the night were the song and the footsteps of two figures, their forms casting long shadows on the ground as they trudged into the night.

_“If you’re a guy who is gentle and tough…”_

The taller of the two flicked his head in the direction of an old house, meeting his companion’s eyes in the gloom. The other nodded silently and began moving towards it, rifle held between calloused hands. They stalked closer to the front door, looking at each other now and again to make sure they were on the same page. He noticed his boss was loading his pistol, eyes locked on the decrepit building. His face was serious, eyes holding a dangerous spark that made the shorter man shiver. It always did, when his friend became deathly intense like this, but that’s how they managed to stay alive, or so he told himself. The thought didn’t make his heart beat any slower, though. If anything, it made the hammering louder and faster. They reached the door, stilling and watching each other and the road behind them. With one last glance, the younger went to push open the door and, without warning, a nimble, yet large, hand shot out and grabbed his wrist. He froze, brows drawn and lips scowling. He wanted to say something, but when he met those intense eyes, he huffed and backed away. The other seemed to soften, eyes holding an unspoken apology, and his hand lightly squeezed his wrist, reassuring and loving. The action made him sigh softly, reaching up with his other hand to touch his lover’s cheek. He stroked his thumb across it, smiling slightly and nodding.

_“I want a man who can stand on his own….”_

The older finally let go and moved in front of his companion, slowly easing the door open with a boot. It creaked, the sound disruptive and heart-stopping. He squinted into the dark, watching the only spot where the moonlight managed to creep through the floor above. Dust was the only thing that occupied the house, it seemed. He glanced back before flicking on his light, scanning the area. More dust, some old books, molding furniture. He saw a photo frame tipped over on the floor, the glass reflecting the light eerily and he shivered. He felt a hand on his shoulder and when he looked back, concerned eyes met him. He smiled at them, patting the hand and turning back into the building. He could still feel that gaze on him as he entered, pistol held loosely in his hand.

_“...and a smile that makes me weak….”_

They had searched the house, finding nothing of interest except for some canned food. The younger man, still jittery and nervous, set up his bedroll in the corner of the top floor. His eyes continuously darted around, checking the stairs and windows, making sure nothing was lurking, waiting for them to retire. He sat, knees against his chest, shoulders tense, fists curled into tight balls. If he had any semblance of nail growth, he would’ve cut his palms. He wanted to gnaw on them, choosing instead to grind his teeth at every noise he heard coming from downstairs. His boss was still rummaging around, looking for anything of value, even though they had completely ransacked the house. It didn’t help that, when he suggested they turn in for the night, the only answer he received was that hard stare and set jaw. He felt like throwing up he was so nervous, and almost gagged when the other finally came up the stairs, the creaking echoing in his bones. He looked up at him, watching his face as he stared up through the hole in the ceiling. The moonlight made his face look more haggard and sharp than it truly was, made him seem older than his years. He could see the shadow his nose cast, the way the light made his eyes seem darker and sunk in, how his cheekbones stood out even more. He looked emaciated. He hated it. It made his stomach churn with the thought that he might truly become that one day. The picture made him lurch to his feet and hurry over to his dearest. When he got closer, his heart began to pound for a different reason. He could see the light shimmering in his eyes, the will to survive--to thrive--burning bright, even though they seemed deeper than usual. The freckles that danced across the ridge of his nose looks like stars and he wanted to run his fingers over them, to count them all. He could see the small scar on his eyebrow, the one that went down his lips, and almost moved to kiss them. He saw the youth on his face and his heart swelled with emotion, with love. This wasteland had taken everything from him--his wife, his son--and spat him out like rotten meat, and yet here he stood, youthful and healthy and vibrant; glowing like the sun, loving and helpful, so full of warmth he nearly exploded with it.

_“...might be the man who’s man enough…”_

He reached up and touched the man’s face lightly, smiling when his eyes widened in confusion. He seemed lost, his eyes focusing on his companion. His hands went to the back of his head, threading into his short sun-bleached hair, before pulling him down into a soft kiss. He felt hands land lightly on his hips and he smiled warmly, feeling a matching smile against his lips. When he looked up into his lover’s eyes, he saw an emotion he could barely describe. Purity, love, something in between? He almost got lost in it, his heart stirring. The other began running his hands up and down his back, soothing, calming, and he finally began to relax. He rested his head against the other’s shoulder, letting himself be pulled closer, until they were almost flush against each other. Finally, those hands stopped on his waist, and soon arms were wrapped around him, feeling protective, as if he would float away if he let go. The other had buried his head into the crook of his neck, breathing him in, lashes fluttering against his skin. He could feel that heartbeat against his own, slamming into his chest, and it soon became the only thing he could focus on. He ran his hands over the man’s back and shoulders, trying to sooth him, to maybe bring the cause of his racing pulse to the surface. That’s when he heard the whispering, the murmurs against his neck, the words making his heart stutter.

“I don’t know what I’d do without you,” he was saying. “I probably wouldn’t even be around. Would’ve found some way to end it, I assume.” He chuckled then and pulled back to look the younger in the eyes. “You’re one of the only good things in this damn world, you know? You’re just so...” he paused for a moment, thinking, searching his eyes. “loyal. Earnest. Hell, I could even say forgiving.” They both smiled at that, reminiscing on the same memory. The man grabbed his hands, placing light kisses on the old scars that decorated his fingers. He leaned down again, and the words ‘thank you’ were mouthed against his lips before they were captured in another sweet kiss that left them both breathless. 

_“You might be the man who’s….man enough.”_


End file.
